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“Here comes the safety bar!” I cheerily say as we board the chairlift.

“I’m scared” the 5-year old girl says.

“It will be ok, it’s kind of like being a bird and flying.”

Still, I encourage the kids to sit back on the chair.

“Slide back, so you’re sitting against the back of the chair.”

Even though I’ve been riding chairlifts for years at ski resorts, I feel responsible for the kids. The chairlift presents the most challenging part of our ski lesson for the day. As the instructor, our ski day must include one ride on the chairlift, so the kids can learn how to get on and off safely. It’s also the most stressful part of the day for me.

Getting them all lined up four across. Then getting them to the loading zone.

“Ok, everbody, chase the chair. Shuffle, shuffle. Shuffle hard!”

Once we get on the chair, my biggest concern is making sure they are sitting far enough back, so they don’t slide under the safety bar.

And then comes the unload, which can be kind of a mess. And it doesn’t seem to matter what age you are. In fact, frequently, older kids and adults have a harder time than little kids. The trick is that you have to pop out of your seat, standing straight up while letting your skis glide down the ramp. Inevitably, someone collapses on the snow. Then you have another problem, getting them out of the way before the next group unloads.

For me personally, when I ski by myself, my biggest fear has been getting stuck on a life that has broken down, thus forcing a rope rescue by ski patrol. Though I’ve gotten stuck for up to 20 minutes, I’ve never had to go through that.

But all of these incidents seemed minor compared to the catastrophe that happened today in the country of Georgia. Due to some sort of mechanical malfunction, the lift ran in reverse at high speed, sending skiers flying off the chairs as they smashed into each other at the bottom. Though the video only lasted about 1 1/2 minutes, the horror seemed to unfold in slow mo, as each chair came careening backwards to the foot of the hill.

As skiers realized what was happening, they started to jump off the chairs, sometime more 10 feet off the ground to avoid being spun into the tangled metal of chairs stacking up. Screams of horror filled the air as other skiers yelled for someone to stop the lift. Other skiers tried to help people out of the way who had been hurled to the ground. It was a skier’s worst nightmare.

As an employee at my home resort, I know all the lifts had a huge red button they can push at any time to stop the lift. Why that didn’t happen, I have no idea.

But I can tell you one thing, after watching that video, I will never be going skiing in the country of Georgia.

You know it’s spring break, when most of the cars you see are sporting red and white Colorado license plates. Red and white plates being the ones attached to the SUV or sedan coming straight from the rental car lot at Denver’s International Airport. The Toyota Camry that is clean as a whistle tooling along the Peak to Peak highway. Because you just know no local’s car will ever look that clean.

You also know it’s spring break when you are following a pick-up truck with a Texas license plate and they are driving really, really slowly over Berthoud Pass. Like 15 miles per hour slow on a 40 mile per hour stretch. Because, geeze those mountain roads are super scary with no guard rail, when you come from the flat lands of Dallas or Houston.

And you know it’s spring break when all the parking lots at the local ski resort are full before 8 a.m. on a week day, and there hasn’t been new snow for days. In fact, we haven’t had a real powder day in weeks. So you know it’s not the locals filling those parking lots, because we reserve our early wake ups and playing hooky for “POW.”

I knew it was spring break, when I was assigned to teach a 4-year old girl from Florida at ski school. And when we went to lunch, I found the little girl had her ski bibs on backwards with the zipper going up the back, thus preventing her from going to the bathroom. I was summoned for help with an outburst of tears and sniffling to the girls bathroom. Thankfully, another instructor and I were able to remedy the situation by pulling off ski boots and doing a quick yank off, flipping bibs around and back on in the span of a minute. Of course, that was better than last year, when I encountered a 4-year old with her left ski boot on her right foot and vice versa.

You know it’s spring break, when you see lots and lots of skiers showing up in blue jeans, and what look like motorcycle helmets and the kind of goggles you’d expect to see on a crop dusting pilot from the 1940s.

One woman confronted me with her two daughters and son, and when I asked if they were wearing sunscreen, I was met with a befuddled look and a “Huh? Why would they need sunscreen?” Being from New York City, shaded by ski scrapers, she didn’t see the need. To which I responded calmly, “Because we are at 9000 feet, and the sun is very strong. Without sunscreen, your kids will get a very bad sunburn within 30 minutes.” Fortunately, us ski instructors are prepared for this type of scenario and usually carry a tube with us in our ski parkas.

You know it’s spring break, when these visitors from points south show up with about 15 layers of clothes on, when the weather forecast says its will be 45 degrees and sunny. I usually wear a t-shirt under my light inner jacket, even then knowing I’ll be roasting by noon. As my 5 year-olds are crying, “I’m so hot!”, I discover wool long underwear, fleeces, down jackets, with face mask, as the sweat rolls off their brow.

I’m not complaining though, really. I’m the lucky one who gets to live in this insanely beautiful place that other people spend thousands of dollars to come visit for one week of the year. Besides, for all the slow driving and silly questions, our spring visitors are usually unfailingly polite.

And who can blame them for driving slowly as they take in the incredible views of the Rocky Mountains? Patience and gratitude — that’s what it takes to endure the next three weeks.

The iconic FDGD appeared at the traffic circle again, and I thought “is it time again already?” This weekend harkens the 17th annual Frozen Dead Guy Days festival in Nederland, when around 20,000 people from far and wide will descend on our tiny town in the foothills.

For small mountain towns that are not home to celebrities, they depend on festivals like this to survive the winter/spring months until the bulk of tourists come in the summer and fall. March can be a difficult time of year for Nederland, in that the ski season is winding down at Eldora, and yet it’s too early for warm weather recreation.

Enter, Frozen Dead Guy Days. Someone (who??) had the brilliant idea to build off of an old guy being cryogenically frozen in a Tuff Shed and created Nederland’s claim to fame — Dead Guy Days. And entire weekend festival filled with whacky events centered around the “frozen” theme. Frozen Turkey Bowling, the Hearse Parade, the Polar Plunge.

My personal favorite is the Coffin Races. What could be more nutty than watching costumed teams of people carting around a person in a coffin through a snowy obstacle course? And then having the joy of pelting said teams with snowballs as they cross the finish line.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature has not been cooperating with Frozen Dead Guy Days. When it was first launched, the second weekend in March seemed like the ideal team to hold a “frozen” festival. The month of March is considered one of the snowiest months on the Front Range after all. In only its second year, 2003, a massive snowstorm hit Nederland, dropping over 5 feet of snow. Perfect!

We first attended FDGD several years ago, when it snowed so much, it literally snowed out the Coffin Races, forcing them to be held on Sunday because the snow closed Boulder Canyon. I still remember standing on the hillside on a brisk, clear sunny day with over a foot of fresh snow, cheering the Muppet Team as they slipped and slid around the Coffin Race obstacle course.

But the last few Marches have brought temperatures more reminiscent of summer rather than snow and ice. And somehow Frozen Dead Guy Days just doesn’t seem to carry the same panache when it’s 60 degrees without a lick of snow on the ground. Frozen turkey bowling just isn’t the same when the turkey thaws forcing participants to hurl it overhand at the pins, rather than rolling it along the snow and ice. They’ve taken to importing snow for the coffin races, due to the lack of white stuff.

Nevertheless, I’m happy for the local businesses. Nederland winters can be tough for the restaurants and shops, since most of the Eldora skiers don’t stop on their way back from the slopes. The festival gives them a huge revenue boost when they are needing it the most.

If you come to visit our fair town this weekend, please be considerate. Drink the beer, but throw your cups and trash away. Have fun, but don’t trash our town. And really, really, consider taking the bus. Boulder Canyon is not the place to test your driving skills after downing a few.

During a winter such as this one, when snow has been sorely lacking, a forecast for any snow at all can seem welcome. So as we headed to Winter Park this past weekend for our annual winter ski trip, we felt optimistic hearing there was snow in the forecast.

We woke up to a rude awakening on Monday morning. The storm had only dropped 4 inches of snow at the highest elevation, which was disappointing enough. But in addition, it had brought a cold front, that turned the 40 degree temperatures of the previous day into sub-zero temperatures, complete with 50 mile per hour winds.

This sudden drop in temperatures combined with the howling winds resulted in what we call “dust on crust” ski conditions. Not only did the new snow do nothing to soften up the skiing, but it actually created mini snow dust bowls on the open slopes as the winds whipped it into whirling dervishes that stung our eyes.

Now I suppose if I had been some out-of-town skier who came for the week, and this would be one of the few times I skied for the season, I might have toughed it out. But Colorado skiers are ski snobs. Because we are often treated to primo “champagne powder” conditions and know how good it can be, we turn our noses up at less-than-ideal conditions. This was as close to east coast skiing as I had seen all season. I learned to ski on the east coast — the hard pack and ice — and decided I was having none of it.

As soon as I took the dogs out in the morning, and felt the wind blasting my cheeks, as I tried to shield my eyes from the blowing snow, I was done. No skiing for me!

Judging from the few cars in the parking lot, I’m guessing I wasn’t alone.

The winds calmed on Tuesday as the sun came out, and conditions improved greatly. As we rode the chairlift this afternoon, we met some skiers from Washington, DC who inquired about the conditions. My inner ski snob came out, as I proudly declared I hadn’t skied on Monday, because of the “dust.” They seemed entirely happy with the snow, making me think of something my friend had told me. Our worst ski day here in Colorado is as good as the best ski day back east.

As we descend down Berthoud Pass, the expanse of the valley starts to come into view. Driving further north towards Fraser and Granby heading towards Grand Lake, the views open and the skies become enormous. Spending time in the Fraser Valley reminds me of Colorado’s version of “Big Sky Country.”

In an earlier post, I wrote about our love of Nederland and not wanting to move anywhere else. But in truth, if the day came, when we would decide to downsize, the Fraser Valley is where we would go. In contrast to the Front Range, it is quiet, peaceful and unassuming here. At the same time, it offers world class recreational opportunities — downhill skiing at Winter Park, nordic skiing at Snow Mountain Ranch and Devils Thumb, and hiking and backpacking in both the Indian Peaks Wilderness and Rocky Mountain National Park.

Several years ago, I met some people skiing at Winter Park who were from Europe. We had an interesting conversation about both the ski resort and the Fraser Valley.

“The skiing here is incredible — so much diverse terrain and great snow!” they exclaimed. “But where’s the night life, where are the cool bars, gourmet restaurants? We expect our ski vacations to include an apres ski scene as well.”

“That’s not what Winter Park is about. The people who come here are families and couples who usually rent condos for the week or weekend, and buy groceries at the local Safeway. A night out is pizza at Hernando’s and they are in bed, fast asleep by 10 p.m.”

They looked dismayed. And though Winter Park’s parent companies, formerly Intrawest, now Alterra Mountain, have tried to develop the village to some extent, I just don’t see that changing. And for me, it’s part of the charm of this area.

I love the wide open valleys, the views of far off peaks like the Never Summer Mountains, and the glimpses of moose grazing willow along the Fraser River. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to ski or hike where I’m shoulder to shoulder with the uber-rich, who are bragging about some celebrity they hobnobbed with the night before.

Perhaps the attraction for me, is that the Fraser Valley and its unpretentious towns here remind me of Nederland’s alter ego on the other side of the divide. Not touristy, and marches to the beat of its own drum. Sort of a hidden gem, not known well to people outside the state of Colorado.

Many years ago when I worked for the C&O Canal National Historical Park in Maryland, I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker, Lorraine. I always enjoyed talking to Lorraine, because she was one of the kindest people I knew.

“So Lorraine, how long until retirement?”

“I only have one year, eight months. I can hardly wait.”

“So what will you do with all your free time?”

“Well, I’ve bought some land out in Montana, and I’m hoping to build a house out there. I just love the big open skies and the wildness. Just visiting there brings me so much peace.”

“Sounds amazing. We will miss you, but I know you will love it.”

Fast forward a year and a half later, after Bryon and I had moved to Colorado. I received an email from my friend, Sam, who still worked at the Canal.

“Leslie, I have sad news. You probably remember Lorraine, who did payroll. She had a heart attack and passed away last week. It’s so sad because she was only two months from retirement.”

My heart broke. Lorraine never got to live out that dream of her peaceful home in Montana. Lorraine became another victim of the “Some day….” mantra.

I’m not a big fan of planning life around “some day.” I’m more of a fan of the “Carpe Diem” model. Seize the day. Because today is all we have. And we don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and some day may never come.

I’ve often been asked how my husband and I ended up in Nederland. Our journey to Nederland definitely is about seizing the day. I’ve loved the mountains since I was a small child and my parents brought us on vacation here from Missouri. The Rocky Mountains filled me with a sense of awe that I had never experienced in my young life. I never forgot that feeling.

In my twenties, when I felt at a loss for direction in my life, a friend abruptly moved to South America. As a journalist, he had always wanted to be out in the field, pursuing stories in the wilds of the Amazon and other places. The way he put it, “This is my dream, Leslie. I’ve always wanted this and I have to give this my shot, or I’ll always regret it.”

At the time, I worked in an administrative job for a large consulting firm in Washington, DC. I got paid well, but I hated the work. Hell, I didn’t even like DC — it was crowded, with lots of traffic, and the summers were intolerable due to the heat and humidity. I pondered, what did I really want to do?

I learned to ski in college and fell in love with it the first day I went skiing. As I continued to go skiing, I met people — ski bums — who worked at the resorts and skied 100 days a year. They seemed to love it. That’s what I really wanted to do.

So I sold my furniture, gave up my apartment, and moved to a small Sierra town in California, Mammoth Lakes ,to be a ski bum. Despite making minimum wage, I had the time of my life, that summer. I never regretted it.

Soon after that, I began a career with the National Park Service. Initially, I worked seasonal jobs during the summer and fall as a ranger, and still did my “ski bum” job up in Lake Tahoe. Eventually, I decided to pursue a full-time NPS job.

My journey with the NPS led me to parks all over the country — Oregon, Cape Cod, Philadelphia. But I never forgot that feeling of being in the mountains, of hiking through the forest, gazing up on the peaks, and feeling my heart sing.

It was that feeling and the recognition that “some day” might never come, that led Bryon and I to buy our log home here in Nederland. We didn’t even have jobs in this area, when we bought the house, but knew that we both loved being in the mountains, and the opportunities it afforded us to do what we loved right out our door. We didn’t want to put our some day off any longer.

If you have something that’s been niggling in the back of your mind, that things you’ve wanted to do — to go sailing, to visit the Redwood forest, to climb a mountain — take today and make a plan to bring it to fruition. Today is all we have, and making today our “some day” could bring greater happiness and rewards than we could ever fathom.

Glancing out the window in the waning hours of light, a blur of movement caught my eye. And there she was , standing in the new fallen snow. The female Rocky Mountain Elk stood next to the lodgepole pine, pausing for just a moment before she dashed off into the woods, the white of her rear standing out in the dusk hour.

Savoring this moment, and about to step away, another one came into view. As I stood at the window, yet another came leaping into view, bouncing off her back hooves as she followed. Over the next five minutes, the entire herd passed through numbering 17 in total. Their grace, their size, their ability to move with stealth as darkness descended, filled me with awe. Once again I am reminded that I am living in wilderness, privileged to share it with these large graceful animals.

When we first moved to Nederland, I don’t remember ever seeing elk in our neighborhood. Elk prefer large, grassy meadows where their large herds can congregate and nibble on tender grasses and shrubs. The first elk I remember seeing were several miles from here south of Boulder Canyon off Magnolia Road. We were driving up the scenic road from Boulder Canyon and saw their distant shapes off in a meadow numbering more than forty of them.

But during the last two years, much like the moose, we are now seeing them more frequently. In the case of our neighborhood, I think it has to do with a rather catastrophic event from the summer of 2016 — the Cold Springs Wildfire. The fire swept over Ridge Road, burning out many acres of lodgepole pine forest, leaving just scorched trees and earth. In the winter following, I started seeing large herds of female elk grazing in that area. It’s no wonder, because soon after the fire was put out, the area filled with wildflowers, new aspen trees and grasses — perfect elk food.

Rocky Mountain elk are similar to other ungulates (hoofed mammals), where females hang together most of the year with their calves, and males travel in smaller groups or even solo. The mothers actually care for all the young as a group — where one female will act as nanny for a group of young elk, while the mother strays further to find food. The females will need an ample amount of food during winter, as mating occurs in September and October, so at this time of year, they are about halfway through gestation carrying their young. In late May and June, they will give birth to one or two new elk.

Rocky Mountain elk are easily distinguished from the resident moose and mule deer even during nighttime. They have a very large patch of white fur that covers their behind, and in terms of size stand much taller than the mule deer and can weigh up to 800 pounds (males). Unlike the moose, their coat is a lighter brown, and their noses are pointed, not bull-nosed like the moose.

Though they appear gentle in nature, the female elk are quite protective of their young. Weighing several hundred pounds, they will use their size as well as their hooves to defend them. So while it’s exciting to see them, like any wild animal, it’s best to observe from a distance and enjoy the show.

Temperatures hovering in the teens, it would have been so easy to hunker down on the couch next to the stove. As Shawnee looked at me, butt wriggling, I could see she was itching to go outside. So ok, I’ll put on my long undies, my fleece, my down jacket and mittens. And away we go.

As we walk along through the new snow, my boots crunch on the ground. Other than that, the air is silent and the forest surrounding me is hushed. We follow our familiar path down towards Boulder Creek, and momentarily I stop at a rock outcropping, admiring the pinkish color of the snow capped Indian Peaks.

Down, down, down the trail we go until we end up at the creek, frozen solid. A glance up the creek is a scene straight from a winter wonderland — evergreens topped with snow, as their limbs bend downward. Clouds, puffed up to look like cotton candy lingering overhead. My breath forms puffs as I breathe in and out, and enjoy the sound of silence.

Winters can be hard here in Nederland especially when the wind blows, as is often the case during winter. It’s also tough when we endure cold snaps such as earlier this week, and temperatures sink down to 15 below or more.

But it’s also a time to truly enjoy the quiet and serenity of wilderness in special way. And you may get to have the entire forest, creek and views of the mountains all to yourself.

Working as a Park Ranger with the National Park Service, I would frequently get asked the following question:

“What’s the best time of the day to see wildlife?”

In the mountains, my answer frequently disappointed.

“Honestly, most of our wildlife are most active at night.”

In fact, one night as I drove back to Sequoia National park around midnight, I saw all kinds of interesting wildlife — a black bear, raccoons, deer, and even tarantulas. A friend of mine once went on midnight hike along the High Sierra Trail during a full moon, and saw not just one, but two mountain lions.

It’s much the same here in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, where the mountain lions, coyotes, elk, moose, bobcat and other wildlife are at their most active during the darkness. But the problem is that I am not so active outside at night, and of course, can’t see what’s out there except for the glowing orbs of their eyes.

But a great way to get a glimpse of all that animal activity is installing a critter cam, or a wildlife camera. When we first moved to Nederland, we didn’t even know what that was. But my father-in-law came to visit us our first summer and the very next Christmas, we got an interesting box from Amazon.com.

In the box were all the tools to install our wildlife camera. Our next quandary was where to put it.

Having noticed several deer grazing near our septic field, we decided on that as the best location. Good thing for me, I have a husband who is handy with doing home improvement, as he dutifully unpacked the camera and installed it on the tree.

The camera takes photos whenever there is movement in front of it and stores them on an SD card, much like a digital camera. Periodically we bring the card in, download the photos on our computer and check out our four-legged visitors.

It’s amazing how many critters use our property as a feeding place or just to pass through on their way to somewhere else. Even during weeks when it has seemed quiet and I haven’t seen any wildlife during the day, the critter cam shows a completely different story.

Tonight, we looked through the last three weeks, seeing coyotes, herds of elk, moose, and bobcats. Our very own Wild Kingdom is going on each night just a few feet from our house.

If you want to know who’s sharing your habitat with you, I highly recommend putting up your own critter cam. You’ll be surprised by what you see.

“You were a Park Ranger? My son wants to become a Park Ranger, can you talk with him?”

Such is the conversation I’m having with a woman I met on the trail last summer in the Indian Peaks Wilderness. It’s a common question I get when people found out I worked with the National Park Service for seventeen years.

February is the time of year when young people start to think about finding a job for the summer. And no job is more alluring than spending your days outside in the parks.

Becoming a Park Ranger with the National Park Service is the great American dream. The vision of wearing the Smoky hat, the gray and green uniform, hiking the trails in some of the most beautiful places in the country attracts many.

When I’m asked this question by young people about a career in conservation, working in the national parks, I feel a bit challenged of how to respond.

On the one hand, some of my greatest moments in my work life were spent in pursuit of a career in the Park Service. On the other hand, I spent years working seasonal jobs, getting paid a meager wage, and moving every five months. I lived in spartan housing where I was lucky to have an indoor bathroom. I applied for hundreds of jobs trying to get permanent status, and often got rejected, even after years of experience. For every one position that’s advertised, parks will receive hundreds of applications. While perseverance is key, there are things a young person can do to stack the deck in their favor.

As early as high school, students can gain valuable experience by working in the Youth Conservation Corps. No experience is necessary, just a commitment to work hard on projects involving our public lands.

Teenagers between 15 and 18 years old can apply regardless of their background or experience. In return, they are paid to work eight to ten weeks doing things like building trails, doing maintenance projects, and conducting environmental education. They are provided housing, as well as at least minimum wage, for 40 hours per week. They work alongside career staff in the Forest Service, Park Service, Fish and Wildlife, and other federal agencies.

It’s a great way for young people to get their feet wet, and learn more about a career in the parks and conservation field. And it sets the stage for more meaningful work in the future, like paid internships, and yes, perhaps even a seasonal job as a Park Ranger.

During my Park Service career, I met some incredible young people through the Youth Conservation Corps. Their work ethic, passion and commitment to learning inspired me and gave me hope for the future. These teenagers are the future stewards for our public lands.